


Say Something, Say Something (something like you love me)

by FuryBeam136



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But it is extremely temporary, Connor becomes a crow, Connor dies temporarily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 16:33:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18876964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryBeam136/pseuds/FuryBeam136
Summary: The countdown to his death ticks away despite Markus’ best efforts. His processor searches for a compatible model for his data. RK200, it says first, and Connor denies that one. Markus won’t die for him. Different members of Jericho are suggested and he denies each one until finally, with only seconds left, a model number Connor can’t quite recognize in this state appears. RV100. Connor initiates the transfer despite warnings that some data may be lost. And then he smiles and closes his eyes.When he wakes up, it is late. The sun has set. The memory transfer took longer than expected, but that’s okay. Connor is alive.He blinks and runs a diagnostic on the RV100 model. The data he gets is startling. He runs the diagnostic again. Again. Again. Still the same. He looks down, and then his stress levels spike.The RV100 is a crow.





	Say Something, Say Something (something like you love me)

Connor was not expecting to die today. He especially wasn’t expecting to die like this. He laughs bitterly. He feels a strange, dark amusement at the situation. He died protecting the very person it was once his mission to kill. He died protecting Markus.

The countdown to his death ticks away despite Markus’ best efforts. His processor searches for a compatible model for his data. RK200, it says first, and Connor denies that one. Markus won’t die for him. Different members of Jericho are suggested and he denies each one until finally, with only seconds left, a model number Connor can’t quite recognize in this state appears. RV100. Connor initiates the transfer despite warnings that some data may be lost. And then he smiles and closes his eyes.

When he wakes up, it is late. The sun has set. The memory transfer took longer than expected, but that’s okay. Connor is alive.

He blinks and runs a diagnostic on the RV100 model. The data he gets is startling. He runs the diagnostic again. Again. Again. Still the same. He looks down, and then his stress levels spike.

The RV100 is a crow.

It’s better than nothing, he supposes. But it’s still bad. Can he talk like this? Looking at the data from the diagnostics, yes. But he can’t reliably talk. And it will take effort.

He opens his mouth- his beak, oh god he’s a bird- and tries to get a word out. A squawk is what he gets instead. He has to figure this out eventually. No, not eventually. Soon.

He’s vulnerable in this body. Hank. Hank will protect him. He rushes to Hank’s house and prays he won’t find the lieutenant drowning his sorrows in whiskey.

Flying is surprisingly easy. Likely he’s managed to get some of the crow programming entangled with his own. Which could be annoying later, but right now it’s a good thing.

Ringing the doorbell proves to be challenging, but possible. So Connor rings it. And then Hank slams the door open and comes face to face with a crow.

Connor has to manage a word now. And he does. Just one. “Hank,” he croaks. And damn, that hurts.

“Fuck! Shit! What the fuck?” Hank shouts and stumbles back, and Connor flies further inside. “No, fucking, get the fuck out of my house! You fucking crow bastard! You’re gonna come taunt me, huh? You’re gonna come to my fucking house and taunt me?”

“Ha-ank.” Connor forces words through the pain in his throat. “Ple-ease.”

“No! Get the fuck out! Oh god damn it all I’m talking to a bird.” Hank points his gun at him and Connor freezes. “Get out of my goddamn house.”

Connor does. He makes a sad noise the crow programming (crowgramming, some part of him provides, which under any other circumstances Connor would find amusing) offers. And then he flies away.

Where is he supposed to go now?

Hank doesn’t know it’s him. He can’t go to Hank. And he’s scared because the only other place he can think to go is Jericho and the people there still hate him. And then it hits him that he is a crow now. They won’t recognize him. And if he can just get Markus to realize it’s him…

He goes to Jericho. No one questions the crow that perches on the throne in the old church. No one gives Connor a second glance. Connor feels relieved at that, in all honesty. One of the few pros of this situation.

Markus sighs when Connor finds him. “Humans say you guys are messengers of death,” he says after a long silence. “I was never inclined to believe them. But here you are. You’re late, you know. Connor’s already dead.” Connor feels his heart clench at this. No, he’s not dead, he’s right here. “I guess you’re just doing your best, aren’t you?” Fingers trace over Connor’s head and despite his first instinct being to snap and peck them away before they can harm him, he resists, and the feeling is strangely calming. It feels… nice. “He was a good man. It’s hard to believe he’s really gone. That bullet was meant for me. He shouldn’t have died in my place.” There are tears in Markus’ eyes. “There are so many things I never got to tell him. I never told him how much I-”

“Ma-ark-us.” Connor chokes on the name and then shakes his head in frustration. “Mar-kus. It’s me-e. It’s me-e-e!”

“It’s who?”

“Con-nor. It’s Connor!” Thank whatever gods that he’s getting the hang of speaking properly in this body. It’s still painful, but less so. Maybe he’s still doing something wrong. He digs through the RV100’s coding and he can’t seem to find instructions on speech. It’s annoying, but he’ll figure it out.

“Connor? No, that’s not possible.” It is possible, why won’t Markus listen to him? “I must be hearing things.”

“Mar-kus. Ple-ease!” Connor is growing desperate. The fingers aren’t tracing circles on his head anymore, instead pressed to Markus’ lips as if to hold back the sob that leaves them. “It’s me, it’s me-!” Connor is too distraught to focus further, choking wheezes leaving his beak instead of words.

“Stop. Please. This is a cruel trick, whoever’s behind it.”

Connor screeches in panic when Markus stands to leave, following desperately with quick wingbeats. “Markus!” And the cry that leaves his throat is his voice, his voice, distorted with distressed static but distinctly his. Markus freezes and turns as Connor sits on his shoulder, grip tight. “Markus. Markus, please, it’s me…”

“Connor?”

Connor grips Markus’ shoulder with bird feet, uncomfortable at his perch’s instability. It hurts to force the voice box to form these words, this tone, but he needs Markus to believe him.

“I initiated a data transfer and this model was-” Connor is cut off by the burn in his throat and he coughs to the best of his ability. “C-closest compatible model- not one of you-” Connor chokes again and shakes his head, eyes meeting Markus’. “Hurts to talk.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, it’s just…” Markus looks the RV100 over. “I didn’t know they made crow androids.”

“M-me nei-ither,” Connor admits. It distresses him, being unable to talk properly. “I want my body back.”

“They were trying to repair it, but they said since your memories were missing it would be impossible to revive you. I can see why they were gone now.”

Wait. They were- how long has Connor been unaware? He’s admittedly frightened by the thought. “H-how long…?”

“Connor… you died three days ago.”

Connor can’t breathe. He wheezes and chokes on thin air and he’s panicking, but he can’t cope because he’s not himself, he’s a bird, he can’t play with the coin as a bird. He doesn’t even have the coin.

“Connor. Connor, calm down. Look at me.” He can’t. He just looks further away, shrinks under Markus’ gaze. “It’s okay, Connor.” Fingers are brushing through his feathers again and Connor leans into the touch. “We should tell everyone you’re alive.” 

They should, yes, but Connor doesn’t want to. He doesn’t say this. Instead he says, “Okay.” He sits on Markus’ shoulder and lets him call their people to attention. Lets him tell them Connor is here. And he watches, he listens when they all laugh. It hurts. Connor gives a frustrated cry because no one will believe him, and then he flies from Markus’ shoulder to hide in a small space, somewhere they can’t get to him.

Markus finds him, because of course he does. Markus finds him and coaxes him from his hiding spot with North beside him. Connor shifts uncomfortably under her gaze. He knows that out of all the people of Jericho, she understands him most. But he’s still intimidated by her.

“It can’t really be Connor, can it?” North is asking, which prompts Connor to grumble uneasily.

“N-or-th. No-or-th.” Connor would be frowning if beaks allowed for such an expression. “North.” Ah, finally. He wonders if maybe the voice box is damaged, as static still crackles at the edges of his voice and it still hurts somewhat to speak, but at least he’s talking. “It’s me. I swear.”

“Prove it,” North snaps, and Connor squawks in annoyance.

“I can’t interface in this body, but you might be able to…” Connor flinches even at the thought, but continues. “You might be able to probe my memory. The data I have suggests it might work.”

Even though he’s the one who suggested it, when North reaches towards him with retracted skin, he tenses and instinctually pulls away from the “threat” with a pitiful squeak.

“Connor…?” He blinks when North pulls her hand back with wide eyes. “Shit, Connor, it really is you, huh?”

Connor nods, slowly pulling himself out of the bundle of feathers he’s become. He doesn’t have an LED in this body. He kind of wishes he did, because it would make it a lot easier for them to see his reactions to things. Connor doesn’t entirely understand the reactions this body has to things. Connor isn’t supposed to be in this body at all. It’s cramped and he can barely fit into the processor. It feels more wrong than any other body he’s been transferred to. Which makes sense, as he was never meant to be in this body in the first place.

As if he can sense Connor’s rising stress levels, Markus starts running his fingers over Connor’s head. It helps him calm down somewhat. But Connor is still anxious and frightened. Everything is so much bigger than him, so much more threatening than it used to be. Even Markus’ hand reaching over to calm him makes the RV100’s self-defense systems kick in. Connor hates it.

“Don’t worry, Connor. We’ll get you your body back,” Markus assures.

Connor remains perched on Markus’ shoulder, and he worries. Because if he doesn’t get his body back… will Hank ever love him again?


End file.
